


Recover You

by viciousmagpie



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Amnesia Sherlock, Dark Sherlock, Jim drugs Sherlock to change him into a bad person, M/M, Psychotropic Drugs, Sherlock becomes a criminal, Sherlock is a Mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 00:24:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6493657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viciousmagpie/pseuds/viciousmagpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moriarty's not dead. He is alive and has a plan. Why should he destroy the only person with the equal mind? No, there's a much worse way. Sherlock will loose everything. And it will end dark. Official translation of my German fanfiction <a href="http://www.fanfiktion.de/s/57056bd100049116cce9271/1/Recover-You-Polemonium-"><i>Recover You (Polemonium)</i></a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> After I've seen two wonderful pieces of fanart on Tumblr this idea came into my mind and I wasn't able to forget it. At first; this story will be different from any other you know.  
> This will not be a MorMor-story. And it'll be fully different from any ideas I've had before. This will be a slight asylum!AU.
> 
> Of course this time a fanart was my inspiration, too; [Insanity is his bride](http://moriartyisfewjar.tumblr.com/post/142227347039/sherlockhasfeels-maxkennedy-requests)  
> My second inspiration was the song ["Pulse"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-KoE76MaMbo) by Covenant.

The case Jim Moriarty.

I thought I've solved it. Everything was so logic, so clear - it was so similar to the case of Emilia Ricoletti! And still I can hear him say ... "Too deep, Sherlock ... way too deep"

The echo of his voice scares me and wakes me up. It seems like I fell asleep before; I don't even know why. We returned to 221b Baker Street, planning the next steps to fight against Moriarty's legacy. He is dead for sure, but there are still enough people working for him. 

My overdose weakened me much more - surprisingly - than I thought.

"John?" I look around. Nobody's there. And yet I'm sure he and Mary followed me.

But then ... I see _him_. "No ..." He sits in my armchair and grins at me. "You!" I hiss furiously and jump up. "You can't be here! You are dead!" His expression becomes darker.

**Moriarty.**

"What do you want?" I snarl unimpressed while staring at him. "Too deep, Sherlock ..." he told me calmly, "Way too deep!" After this, he grins at me again. "What did you do again ... you wanted to solve my case ... you were wrong all the time. And where are you now? Lost, alone, without your John" My anger is boiling. "Keep John out of it!" I spit.

He doesn't care. "Nobody can save you this time. Nobody's here" He jumps up, grabs my throat and pushes me against the wall of my room. I try to free me from his grip, but it seems to be impossible. 

His gaze fixates me, eyes glowing from hate. "You are lonely, Sherlock. Nobody's on your side ..."

Saying these words he releases me from his grip and disappears. I stare in confusion. What has happened? How did he get here? Without waiting for an answer I decide to lay me down again. My head hurts. While I soothe I can hear somebody's coming in. Moriarty.

His face adorned by an infamous grin - more repellent than any of him I've seen before. I'm not sure what he wants to do, until I can see his hand, it reaches for my throat. His hand is like a cold claw. He tries to choke me, and I cannot fight against it. While my mind is fading I can hear him singing "You are insane, Sherlock"

"And I will cure you!" 

My vision gets black ...


	2. Spindrift (blue is the color of oblivion)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What happened after the end of HLV? Inspiration; [Spindrift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W9Esuh1Ux1o)

**___24 hours ago___**

"Oh, for God's sake. Make up your mind. Who needs me this time?" Sherlock asked annoyed. He was only five minutes away, on the way to a mission with no return. Then Mycroft phoned him. "England" The plane heaved and landed.

"But he's dead. I mean, you told me he was dead, Moriarty" Mary was shocked, unlike the older Holmes who was just surprised. "Absolutely. He blew his own brains out" John answered and reflected what Sherlock told him about the death of Jim Moriarty. "So how he can be back?" The ex-military doctor sighed. "Well, if he is ... he'd better wrap up warm. There's an East Wind coming" Wishfully they waited for the plane to stop.

But while they were waiting it happened - just a few seconds after the private jet has landed and the doors were opened, a car came out of nowhere. A few mummed men stormed out of it and into the plane. "Oh my god, what's happening here? Mycroft!" Mary yelled.

"Sherlock!" John screamed frantically while Mycroft yelled into his phone; something he couldn't understand.

Unable to move they witnessed the men carried Sherlock - obviously he was on heroin or cocaine again - out of the plane and threw him into the car, without any resistance from him. And as fast as they appeared they vanished again.

In shock, John stared at the older Holmes brother who looked as clueless as him. "What the hell has happened?!" Mycroft shook his head without saying any word. "Whoever this was, he wanted Sherlock - for sure!" Mary shouted and looked also at her phone.

~

Sherlock slowly realized that those men couldn't be from any government or - maybe - ordered by his brother. They were retired soldiers, according to their body - every one of them was an athletically trained giant. But he wasn't able to see anything else.

"What do you want from me?" the detective hissed. But the men remained silent. Suddenly one of them reached something behind his back and fetched a cloth and a bottle. Immediately Sherlock was sure how this day will end. "Who?" No answer.

Two of the men grabbed him. He didn't understand why he lost strength with every passing minute. There was no chance to get free because of this weakened condition. A few moments later the other man pressed the cloth, soaked by the fluid from the bottle, against his nose and mouth.

 _Chloroform_. Not long and Sherlock's mind faded again.

~

After a while the detective regained consciousness. He noticed one of the men, a blonde man with a big tiger tattoo on his back spoke to someone. "We got him. I think he is awake; so I hope that's no trouble at all" A second voice was heard. Sherlock was sure he heard the man before but wasn't able to find the name. "Nah, well done, Tiger. Let the others know that the plan _Recovery_ is at full work"

Sherlock wanted to get up but failed because his limbs were numb due to an unknown reason. Dizzy he kept on lying; his vision blurred more and more. He was unable to think, or to say any word. "Why ...?" was the only word he cried, tears in his eyes and his tongue like lead. 

After a while he noticed black leather shoes. "Oh Sherlock ... so weak" the man sang eerily, "What have you done again? Killed a man just to keep a killer's family safe" He kneeled down and grabbed one of his shoulders to turn him around.

The detective could look into his face. And was directly terrified. These dark brown eyes, this black hair, this malicious smile. "Moria ..." He stopped; for saying any other letter of the well-known name he lost the strength.

Jim grinned. "You really believed my fake? You thought I was dead. Oh Sherly, you should have known it better, don't you think?" He flung out a syringe off his suit jacket, removed the protection from the needle and tapped with his finger against the glass. In the plunger shimmered a blueish liquid. "You know, I once wanted to see you fall. To destroy you, inch by inch. But while living in my self-chosen exile I observed everything you did - and so this plan found its way to my mind"

"You throw your power away. For ordinary and very stupid people. I'll change you, into the person you should have been all before" Saying these words the Consulting Criminal took the arm of the younger Holmes. Sherlock looked at him. "Hnng ..." Whatever he has taken, it was not a typical drug. He wasn't able to fight against the strength of the Irish man. His body disobeyed completely.

"Well, you know ... it wasn't heroine what you bought, Sherlock. It was a slow-acting sedative, made by some scientists for me. Your body was slowly drugged with every hour, you wouldn't be able to move or speak ... while your mind kept nearly every percent of its capacity" Sherlock didn't even feel the slight pain when the needle pierced through his skin.

"You should have killed yourself back then. It would have been the better choice" Jim smiled at him; a few seconds later the smile changed into a mischievous grin. He injected the unknown substance into the detective's vein. "This is no game, anymore. Sherlock, you were right. All the time. I am insane. In a way you never dreamed of. But I'll show you what I can do"

Within the following minutes, Sherlock felt how his mind drifted away. His thoughts - spinning around James Moriarty, his suicide and the question how he survived - faded slowly away. He tried to fight against the darkness, which took hold of him, but he had no chance.

"Sleep tight, Sherlock, we will meet again"

______________________________________

With the last words of the consulting criminal he could hear Sherlock rudely awakened and startled up. The loud beating of his heart pounded in his ears; in his head pulsated a nasty pain. Still confused about the situation the detective tried to focus; in hope the disturbing feeling of the returning nightmare would vanish. But it did not.

He looked around. Just a few, small rays of moonlight fell into the room. What was this for a strange room? It was not his bedroom, not the 221b Bakerstreet. Everything seemed unreal, maybe he was still sleeping? Sadly he couldn't see anything else than two grey walls.

 _How did I end up here?_ , he thought. Sherlock sighed loudly. After a few minutes he gave up to think about. The memory of the last hours was erased.

Suddenly, quite accidentally, he noticed something was wrong with him. He was bound. A straightjacket.

Immediately he panicked and tried to get free from the straightjacket. "What's going on here?!" he yelled. While he fighting against it, he didn't notice the door was opened and someone stepped into the room. "Oh my dear, you've woken up ..."

Sherlock winced. He was sure; this eerily chanting voice could belong to only one man. **James Moriarty**. Angrily he jumped up, noticed the open door and tried to run to it; but a metallic collar pretended him from going further. It strangled him instantly. He choked on the pain and coughed. "Nah, be a good boy"

So he fell down on his knees.

Weakily he lifted his head up to do the last thing he was able to - staring hatefully at Jim. "Moriarty ... what do you want from me? Where am I? What's up with this straightjacket and this stupid collar?!" Jim chuckled amusedly. "You're just awake about five minutes. And then you're asking me questions like that. Booring" The consulting criminal kneeled down beside Sherlock, just to grab ungently his chin. "Where you are? I won't tell you. Why the straightjacket and the collar? I don't want you to do something stupid, for example trying to run away. This is my game"

The detective ignored him and looked around again, but he still didn't see more than before. The light of Jim's torch was enough to light up the rest of the room. "Look at me ..." Angrily Jim turned his head, so their gazes met. "About your last question ... you will understand it, for sure - soon enough" Jim's eyes turned darker than before and his nonchalant smile turned into a mischievous grin again. "Just for your information, Sherlock - when I'm done with you, you will never be the same again"

Saying these words he flicked his fingers; within a few moments two tall, powerful men appeared. They were two of the men who kidnapped him. They opened the straightjacket and released the detective's arms.

Jim rolled up the sleeve of one. "I used to say I don't like getting my hands dirty. To be honest, it's still true. But you are an exception, Sherlock" He pulled out a syringe from the inside pocket of his suit.

Sherlock was sure it was filled with the same substance as last time he was drugged. The Irish man removed the protection from the needle and tapped with the finger against the glass again. Immediately Sherlock understood what Jim was going to do. "What do you want from me?! Why do you do this?! ..." He tried to fight, but he wasn't able to move while the two giants held him.

"It's all good, Sherlock, it's all good. You don't have to fear it. There's no way you could escape" With a mischievous grin Jim injected him the contents of the syringe.

"What was that ...?" Sherlock yelled. "Just a little experiment of mine ..." the consulting criminal answered, his tone showed he was pretty bored by the detective's acting, "... you will feel the effect soon enough. I wasn't inactive while being in exile. I conduct research for something you'll like"

Sherlock felt how his clear thoughts faded with every following minute while he was observed by Jim. Until he wasn't able to think anymore. Suddenly his memory of every day happened before was erased. Like Moriarty has locked any door in his mind palace and took the keys with him.

After a while he also wasn't able to recognise Jim. There was the feeling he knew him, but he didn't remember where from.

"Take him to the bed, but pay attention to the chain. It must be fixed tightly. He should not be able to escape when the memory comes back" The two men unlocked the chain, dragged Sherlock to the bed and locked it again at the wall. After this they knot up his arms again.

The consulting criminal looked at the black-haired man in front of him. "Oh Sherlock, you're in trouble again ... but this time, brother dear isn't here to save you ..." Sherlock didn't react, he just laid on the bed, staring with empty eyes. 

The criminal was sure his drug worked. So he risked going one step further. "Daddy's here, daddy will save you" Carefully he stroked the cheek of the weak man. 

Then Jim went to the door, followed by the two soldiers. "He'll fall asleep. When he wakes up, give him food and water. When anyone notices he is regaining his memories I want to be called immediately! Nothing will be done without my command!" he snarled at the two men, who nodded without any words.

So they closed the door of the cell. Jim went into another room to observe what happened with Sherlock. 

The detective slept for a while, until he woke up, looked up and immediately began to cry. "Who am I? Where am I? Is anybody here? Tell me!" 

He wrote down something on a pad. **Day 1. Experiment successful. Keep it on.**


End file.
